


Healer for Hire

by Peachie_Veachie



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Altus Inquisitor, Angst, Crossdressing Inquisitor, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Non-Binary Inquisitor, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Slavery, Tevinter Imperium
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-02 14:51:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4064056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peachie_Veachie/pseuds/Peachie_Veachie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Milo Paenitet never longed for the family's chair in the Magisterium. He was pleased to know that was his older brothers burden to bear. After abandoning his duties to his family, he chose a life of healing & herbalism. A quaint substitute to the lush riches of his Minrathous home. But. . .upon the world trying to crumble in upon itself - Milo chose to hear out what the Mages & Templars of the Conclave would have to say about it. . . </p><p>~ ~ ~ ~ ~</p><p>An AU where the Inquisitor is of Tevinter Origin. Rated Mature for language & possible eventual smut. I'm a HUGE fan of fluff. . . soo - relationships will be had! Tags will be added as I come to them in the story. Crits & Kudos always appreciated <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Familia

Milo hadn't worn his formal robes for so long in his life. Just the feel of them was unpleasant. He much preferred custom ones with frilly skirts & ribbons. Flowy things were always better in his book - not this frigid masculine mess of dark fabric & Tevene history. Much less, wearing them whilst staring down the urn that contained the dead remains of once distant father, in complete silence & blank stares. Mourners around him wept loud with ugly tears for an old Magister that surely none of them previously gave two damns about. _pssh. . .I didn't even know him, and I was his son. Unless you consider being neglected your whole life, except for important occasions like degrading you & murdering your lovers - getting to know somebody._

He was here for his brother, Alericus, now Magister of House Paenitet. Alericus was a good man. . .somewhere. . .deep. . .deeeeep down. Milo remembered how he used to be, back when they were just kids, screwing around the manor and making trouble. Why did it have to come to this? Seeing each other for the first time in months at their own fathers funeral, a funeral mind you that Milo had no plans on attending until Alericus insisted upon it.  
  
_“Youre already being rumored a traitor to the Imperium Milo, could you at least show some respect to our family by attending the ceremony? It’s all I ask - then you can go back to whatever pitiful life I drug you from.”_ Remembering the words brought pain to his eyes all over again. _Ya know. . .I wouldn't of felt the need to run away if you had never changed. If you kept being my brother. . .kept. . .loving me. But no. . .You needed to fill father's shoes. Become the Magister the Imperium requires. hmmph._

As the ceremony came to a close, Milo makes a move to walk away when his brother pulls at his sleeve.  
  
“Oh no you don't - we need to talk before you go gallivanting off to the Free Marches again. Which by the way - why? Why there? I half expected to find you in Antiva.”

Milo winces at his brothers incessant tugging at his clothes an pulls away. “Oh please - I may have a weakness for their leather, but what I needed most was purpose in life, not a dagger.”

“There might be some sense in you yet.” Alericus crosses his arms and awaits a reply. It was almost like neither of them had lost a father. All business. No emotion. You could easily tell amongst the crowd who actually knew the man & who was simply coming for show. All one had to do was look for tears. Not one of the funeral guests who knew the man personally, worked with him, or even family - sparred a single tear. It was all business. 

Milo rolled his eyes at his brother, “I’ll meet you at the manor. . just. . .give me moment would you?”

“I don't trust your “moments” - commonly they involve you leaving.”

Milo went slightly crimson. . . He didnt know how to process his brother caring about where he went off to, business or not. It wasn’t normal. . .not anymore.  
  
“Fine. I’m right behind you.” Milo sat on his horse and followed patiently behind the family carriage to the Paenitet manor.

* * *

 

“I will pose this - one more time. I am entering the Magisterium in less then 2 weeks and thus be swamped in paperwork. I would like for you be my attaché. Attend parties when I’m unavailable, help me reply to letters, that sort of thing. It’s not a hard job & will raise your approval amongst the populace of Minrathous, something _you_ desperately need.”

“Ricus. . .”

“Do not call me that.”

“ ** _RICUS_** \- do you seriously think I give a shite about the ‘approval of the populace of Minrathous?”

“You cant even use Tevene swearing? How far have you fallen?”

“Clearly not far enough - I’m still here listening to your drabble." Milo was almost as red as a tomato - does it ever stop? He wouldnt even let him call his own brother by his own damn nickname. Everything was so political - so business like. This wasnt a family - its was a company. "I’m done Alericus. I've had it. Him dying does not change a damn thing. I can’t be who I am here - and its not like anyone gave a damn to start with! Father didn't even notice that I existed until Vaeril ~ and then all of a sudden I’m an important member of the Paenitet family. Bull shite.”

“Vaeril? That slave you were fucking?”

“Dont. Call him. a _slave_.  & we weren’t “ _fucking_ ” we were _courting._ ”

“Courting? Are you daft? He’s a bloody male slave - an elf at that. Maker, if you’re going to “court” a slave - at least pick damn human. Which by the way - are you ever going to move on in your life? We must find you a wife one of these days - but at this rate no one will want the Paenitet whore, regardless of our lineage. Your dowry might cost us a fortune.”

“Fasta Vaas - would you _PLEASE_ stop?! Do you have any remote care for my feelings once so ever? . . .What happened to you Alericus? You weren’t always this way. . .”

“This way? I had to be this way - it was my only viable option. I do not regret it. The only thing I regret is not saving you sooner.”

“I don't _need_ saving.” and with that, he left his brothers room only to cross the hallway of the manor and enter his own. Alericus cursing him as he slammed the door shut.

Upon entering it, his mind broke. He fell apart. Crying like one of those wenches at the funeral. Who did he think he was? _pssh. . .of course he knows who he is - The great Magister Alericus Paenitet. . . fuck that._  Milo flopped onto his bed and held onto a pillow. _What was even the point of this trip? You get a letter from your brother for the first time since you left Tevinter - only to find out that no, he didn't give a shite about you, simply wanted your presence at the funeral so that the remaining Altus of Minrathous wouldn't spread more rumors about our family. Then to top it all off - tries to convince you, once again, that the family needs you. Right._

He sighed. pulling himself back together again. He was good at crying - in private settings with no one listening. Tevinter was a beautiful place. Tall ornate buildings, pristine roads, good soil for planting, and the sun seemed to shine brightly every day - but that only amplified the ugliness of its populace. Orlais wasn't the only place filled to the brim with players of the great game. As soon as you open your eyes to greet the morning - you put on a mask. Not even a beautifully ornate one like the Orlaians, no, your own face must be your mask. You are to never show weakness, must always be the life of the party, show no emotion. Crying was left for the Soporati.  

* * *

 

“I’m leaving.” Milo stood in the doorway of his fathers - now his brothers - study. Dressed in his travel gear, pack over his shoulder, Urbana, his staff, in hand.

“Is that so?” Alericus replied, not even looking up from his paperwork.

“It is.” and with that, Milo began to walk away.

“Milo -” Alercius called out

He stopped, not turning to look back, and replied, “yes?”

“Be careful would you? Wouldn't want to plan another funeral ceremony this month.”

He half chuckled, “whatever.” and Milo left, hopefully for the last time.

 

* * *

 

Summer was most definitely upon us, as Milo had had absolutely enough of the Imperial Highway at this point. He had spent the last two months catching up to where he had left off before his loving brother drug him back to Tevinter. Between the heat ~ which was slightly warmer than his liking, and the surrounding architecture, he was ready for a break. Orlais would have to wait another day or two.  _Thank you Tevinter for ruining this “architectural wonder” for me. Why it was necessary to pound Tevinter history into a “useless” mage such as myself, I will never understand_. But alas. . .he kept moving. An event was approaching that Milo simply had to attend. Not the typical balls of Tevinter, but a Conclave. An effort made by the Southern Chantry to stave off the war between Mages and Templars. 

Milo had stayed mostly to the sidelines amongst a rebel group based in Orlais for the majority of the war. After Kirkwall went up in flames, The Order as it was called, seemed to be the place to be. He was a healer there, and did good work. To think, if he had just sat down and played good as ordered - he wouldn't of heard of the Order at all, would have never had such an opportunity to make a difference.  _Alericus was right - I didn't know anything of the real world. . .but only because you and your Magister like felt the need to never tell me_. Books he could never read - read. Places he was never allowed to see, seen. People he was taught were just savages to be enslaved - befriended. The world was leagues different outside of his Tevinter cage. The Order was good to him - but after a time - he needed to move on.  & having a Tevinter opinion probably wouldnt hurt this Conclave of theirs. Milo wanted to be a part of that. To help more people, to have a hand in stopping this insidious war. 

Finally - he had reached civilization - in the form of Cumberland. Big cities always reminded him of home, in a good way - and not that whole "Tevinter history" way ~ but he kept walking. Needing to save coin - The Diamond Lass was completely out of the question for lodging. With their fancy rune encrusted glasses - was it so hard to use ice? Instead he settled for smaller more quaint little inn outside of the city limits. After taking care of his room, Milo set his belongings on a nearby chair and locked the door behind him before dramatically flopping down on his bed with a huff.

“I don't think I've ever been quite so filthy in my entire existence.” he shook his head at himself. This was his own doing. But despite his disgust, sleep slowly took him.

 

* * *

 

A much younger Milo wandered the grounds of his Minrathous home as quietly as he could muster. Not that it mattered much, not many paid him any mind. It was if he were more a wandering spirit then the second in line of House Paenitet. But regardless - he did not wish to be disturbed with whatever foolishness Alericus might have for him now that he was home from the Circle. He had only one thing in mind for today. His garden.

Elfroot, Embrium, Spindleweed ~ almost anything could be grown with a little help of magic from time to time. Royal Elfroot was his current favorite. Not only did it assist in poultice making - but its purple color was divine. Sadly - his once beautifully tended herb garden was surely a ruin now. Who would of took care of it other than he?

Reaching his destination - Milo was completely astonished. Not only was the garden tended - but there were herbs growing here that he had yet to plant - much less figure out how to maintain in Tevinter weather. Sure - almost anything could be grown with a bit of magic - but - Crystal Grace, Vandal Aria, Arbor Blessing; even a small little pond with Dawn & Blood Lotus.  _Where has all of this come from?! How. . .how is it even growing?_  He knelt before his once meager garden in complete awe.

“Is this the Maker’s doing. . .?” he quipped out loud. He reached out to touch the plants - to make sure they were real, before his quiet awe was broken by the sound of crashing behind him.

“Oh dear. . . I. . .I’m so sorry to intrude Young Master. . .uhh. . I. . I’ll be going. . .” A young elven man around Milo’s age he guessed, was quickly gathering watering cans and containers of what looked like various fertilizers. Long white hair pulled up in a ponytail to reveal a lightly colored vallaslin. An old apron covered in dirt adorned his Servants uniform. Milo watched him quietly for a moment before reacting. . .

“No - wait - Did you do all this?” The elf stared, wide eyed at Milo, as if he were scared for his life. After a beat, he responded simply.

“...Yes. . .I. . uhh. . . I did.”

“It’s remarkable.” Milo looked back to garden, still in shock. “How did you even get a hold of half of these? Much less grow them?”

“I. . I’m a former Dalish Young Master. When allowed free time, I simply know where to look & who to talk to. . .”

“Former Dalish? You mean you arent anymore?” Milo didn’t know much of the Dalish other than knowing they were nomads of sorts, living off the land in clans. With that thought, it made a little more sense to him that a Dalish would accel in gardening & herbalism.

“Well. . .if it isn't too bold of me to say Young Master, my clan has all but deserted me. I was sold into slavery. To be honest I’m not even sure if my clan is even relevant anymore. And even if they were. . . and if one day I was made a free man. . . I doubt I would be welcomed back with open arms.”

“What does any of that have to do with. . .excuse me - I’m prying aren't I? I dont even know your name ~ what is it pray tell?”

“V-Vaeril. . .young master.” Milo didn't think the poor elf could lower his head any further, and every time “Young Master" came out of his mouth he just wanted to scream.

“Desist with the Young Master business, you can simply call me Milo. And it is quite pleasant to meet you Vaeril, please, lift you head.”

He did as he told, but fear was still riddled in his eyes. Milo tried to avoid most of the families slaves, he didn’t quite know how to speak with them. And to be honest - most of them were on watch for him to do something stupid anyway, so he simply tuned most of them out. . .but this one - he had done something marvelous.

“Are you busy Vaeril? Would you be up for keeping me company?”

The elf blinked a couple of times and looked to be pondering his answer. “No. . I. . . I am under no orders at present. If you wish me to keep you company I shall.”

“Good! Well then - come, sit.” Milo gestured to a patch of grass next to him. Vaeril tidied his stack of tools one more time and then sat where instructed. They sat in silence for a while before Milo took the initiative and broke the silence.

“Are you a mage?”

“Oh no, youn-. . . Lord Milo.”

“I suppose that's an upgrade.” Milo laughed softly before turning to the elf. It was his first good look at him. He always kept his head down, but seemed to be growing more accustomed to not doing so. He was so. . . fetching. Milo seemed to get lost in his face ~ following the lines of what Milo assumed to be his clans markings. Long pin straight white hair, large bright green eyes - they seemed to almost glow. Skin a slight tan, clearly he too spent a good deal of time out in the Tevinter heat. Milo suppressed the urge to reach out and touch him.

“L-Lord Milo?” After a few blinks, Milo recovered. “Ah, yes, sorry, about that. . . um. . . when did you join the ranks of house Paenitet?”

“ I am told not long after you had left for the Circle Youn-. . Lord Milo.”

“Ah, did someone instruct you tend the garden? Surely not my father.” Milo rolled his eyes, the thought was indeed humorous.

“umm. . .no. . .Lord Milo. . .umm - I just. . .I. . .”

“It’s okay to tell me - I’m not going to whip you or any of that degrading nonsense. Just curious. You may speak openly with me.”

“I. . .I tended it of my own volition. . . No one seemed to watch over it other then me. I had wondered if it had belonged to yourself or your brother previously; before the Circle.”

Milo smiled and shook his head slightly. “My brother doesn't exactly have a green thumb. Nor does he much care for herbalism. It seems its a trait I brought upon myself, seeing as I see no other Paenitet interested in the hobby. Tis a shame.”

Vaeril nodded his head once. He was slowly starting to become more comfortable it seemed.

“I appreciate you tending it in my absence. I’m not completely sure of your ways, but they are most efficient. The garden has never been so colorful.”

“Thank you. . .I. . .I umm. . I should probably be on my way.”

Milo sighed before glancing down at his pocket watch. Someone would find him soon. “Yes, I suppose you should.”

Without a word, Vaeril stood and gathered his things once more.

“Would you mind making this regular?”

“r...regular?”

“Come and meet me around this time tomorrow, here, at the garden. I want to learn your tricks of trade.” Milo smiled up at Vaeril, the elf went crimson.

“Of. . of course. I will be here tomorrow.”

“Splendid.”  


* * *

 

Milo woke with a start. Hot salty tears falling from his eyes, taking big heaving breaths to gather his poise once more - but it was all but gone ~ it was dream. . . a beautiful one. . .but one that pained him to see. Memories he'd rather left untouched. Looking out the nearby window, it was now dark outside his small appointment at the inn. He supposed he'd slept for the remainder of the daylight hours. Bending over, he held his face in his hands.  _Please. . .Please make them stop. . ._ He didn't want to remember. He wanted to wipe all memory of those perfect green eyes out of his mind. He wanted to forget. Forget how he single handedly rid the world of its most beautiful & perfect citizen. He shook his head.  _No - this is not the time. I’ll be the man he wanted me to be - I’ll heal the hurt. . .I’ll live for us both. I will make change if it kills me in the process._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys have liked it thus far - I know AU's are hard to sink your teeth into at first sometimes. Comments & Crits always appreciated ~ and if you are so inclined, find me on tumblr <3 http://peachiesncreame.tumblr.com/


	2. The Beginning of the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of the kudos! I hope I can write Milo in a way that you guys will enjoy. I apologise for the shortness of this instalment, the next will allot more juicy & less re-hashing events ^^ It will hopefully be posted soonish as well! A side note though - Allot of the lore I used for Tevinter is assumed on my part - if I break cannon, I'm sorry in advance. ;__; 
> 
> Enjoy! & don't forget to share your comments!

Moving on from Cumberland was difficult. The nightmares had kept him from getting any amount of sleep for the duration of his time spent there. However - it was about time to head towards the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Putting aside his own personal worries, he dawned a set of plain mage robes & moved towards his destination. Making a pitiful attempt to not be as bright & showy as his usual self.  
  
According to the Southern Chantry, the Temple had held the Urn containing Andraste's ashes, said to heal any wound if consumed. Milo viewed Andraste like many of Tevinter did, but as a healer himself, he had a hard time believing such a tale. She was a scholar, a prophet, some would go as far as to proclaim her a war hero - but never a deity sent by the Maker, whose mere ashes held the ability to raise the dying & heal the blight. For all of the Imperial Chants faults, Milo still felt they held some semblance of truth to them, though still not entirely sure if he would consider himself Andrastian. He simply had to many doubts. If the Maker truly did exist, he was a real blighter indeed. Regardless - it made the trip to the temple all the more interesting. Milo was never against learning some history or sight seeing. If nothing came of these peace talks, at least Milo became a little more traveled.  

Stopping at a tavern the night before his arrival, he had plenty of time to pretty up & move along in the growing precessional of mages. It was magnificent. The southern chantry had done great work on this place - completely restored. Statues towered over the masses, walls held high by ornate columns, if he didn't know any better he would of felt like he'd walked right back into Tevinter. . .just - minus all the iron dragons & pointed spires. Milo had indeed reached the Conclave. . .and it was just as intimidating, if not more so then he pictured. Taking a glance along the line next to him, it was pack full of Templars, as well it should be, cant have a peace talk without both sides present. But like any modern mage - Templars weren't exactly his favorite of people. True - a mage may have set fire to this war - no pun intended - but if it had not been for the templars who prompted said mage to do so, then maybe the South wouldn't have to deal with such an issue. Kirkwall was a tragedy - but even in Tevinter, the oppressed never deserved their oppression. If Milo were to pick a side, of course it would be his fellow mages. Not to say none of his own were at fault - some were completely out of control. He had also met Templars along his journeys who wished to help the mages - they were simply few and far between. Milo shivered slightly before returning his view to the front. Thoughts such as these were what started this mess.    
  
Sadly, he didnt expect much to come of this Conclave, war was never solved in a day. But during his travels, he had dealt with enough blood for a century - it needed to be stopped. Someone had to do something. But despite his high hopes for heroism, it just wasn't _his_ calling. Sure, allot of things needed to be done - but one tiny little Tevene mage wasn't enough to do so. Not to mention, who would listen to him? No one took him seriously at home - much less here. It had become problematic as of late, that, amongst all this war, blood,  & tears - not only did southerners want nothing to do with a Tevinter - but wanted less to do with a crossdressing, homosexual, Tevinter. Sure most just assumed him female upon first glance. The flowy robes, elfroot adornments in his medium length wavy auburn hair, nails always kept manicured & perfect. It didn't help that his figure was quite feminine on its own, lanky - but curvy in all right places. Milo saw these traits as positives, not negatives - but on top of it being nearly impossible for him to cover up his accent, and the fact that no matter how airy his voice - most people figured him out within minutes upon seeing him in drag. So - for the sake of Fereldens everywhere - he took it down a peg. Started wearing more masculine clothing, but only for the sake of travel. On down time - he wore whatever he pleased. On this particular occasion however - He wore his best Ferelden robes. Didnt want to be sent away for looking too Tevintery, they wouldn't let just anybody into this shindig. But. . .one can only hide his true self so much - nails were still long and kept clean, rings on every other finger, long dangling earrings hanging from his tanned ears, and the slightest smudge of kohl along his eyes. Milo felt pretty damn pleased with today's outfit.   
  
Upon entering the main hall, Milo moved about the crowds to find a nice place to sit & view the ceremonies as well as listen in to the peace talks. After an hour or so of twiddling his thumbs, a voice rung from the center of the main hall.

"ORDER!" the voice called. Milo snapped right out of his inner dialogue with himself and right back into the now. _Oh yeah. . . war and stuff. . ._ Milo sat up in his seat towards the back of the room at attention. "There have been some delays, but the Great Divine Justinia will be among us shortly. We ask that you have patience."

 _Wonder what's holding her. . . Not like they haven't been planning this for months. . ._ With a sigh, Milo rose from his seat and moved about the room. To his left was a long stretching hallway where many stood & conversed, waiting for the festivities to begin. Ferelden & Orleasian, Humans,Elves & Qunari alike - even a few that Milo recognised as Tevinter. Seemed as though many a group sent dignitaries to see to the proceedings. Milo simply walked past them, deciding to wander the grounds while he waited. Surely there would be relics to view, this was temple after all. And boy was he right. So many beautiful works & statues. Hallway after hallway. Moving around the temple and simply enjoying the feel of the place. After only a matter of minutes, Milo felt lost within it, and most likely had ended up somewhere he wasn't supposed to be. But he kept moving. Not like he couldn't hear the roar the crowd would make upon Justinia's arrival. Milo let out a sigh, this wasn't why he was here. He wanted to make change, to have a voice, if only one of many. But just as his conscience had begun - his inner ponderings were paused. At the end of the hall he currently wandered, a small cry could be heard. . . or were they just talking. . .? The doorway in question seemed to be. . .glowing. . .a soft red color. Magic perhaps?   
  
"Now is the hour of our victory."  
  
"Why are you doing this? You - of all people!"   
  
The first voice sounded strangely Tevinter. A deep grovel with hardened syllables - the latter however was clearly Orleasian. _What could they possibly be argueing about?_   Curiosity killed the cat it seemed. Milo inched closer, keeping his footsteps light. . .something about this didn't feel right. . .   
  
"Keep the Sacrifice still." The strong Tevinter voice sounded - _Sacrifice?! Blood magic perhaps. . .What were they doing in there. . .? Leave it to the Tevinter. . .Maker save him. . ._  
  
  
"Someone - Help Me!" Oh this had gone far enough - Milo knew the basics in stopping a blood mage if it came to that. This was to bring peace - not start another war!  
  
Milo shoves the large doors open, ready to attack - "What's going on here?!" _Is that?. . . no. . ._

As Milo looked upon the scene - The Divine herself floated midair in front of the tallest humanoid creature Milo had set eyes upon. That thing could bench press a qunari! The two figures turned towards him - seemingly confused. The Divine raised a hand and swatted a large ball in Milo's direction. Not quite knowing why himself - he ran to grab it, before pain shot up his left arm with a green flame. Screaming, Milo fell to his knees. . .

 

* * *

 

 The next thing Milo knew he was in chains. "What in the -" looking up, a door slammed open. A tall dark haired woman approached, as well as another red headed one behind her. It was then that Milo realized swords were raised above his head, before they lowered with the arrival of the two women currently circling him.   
  
"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you now? The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended it dead. Except. You." a thick Navarran accent assaulted his ears. What in Makers name had he gotten himself into. . .  
  
"Wh-what?! I dont. . .what is this? Why am I here? Whatever happened I can assure you I didn't do it! Pretty positive I would have remembered massacring thousands of people!" The gall of this woman - he wanted to know what happend too! Just because he survived whatever it is that happend does not mean he himself is to blame!

"Silence! If you were not the one - then explain this -" The dark haired woman lifts Milo's left hand to his face before it began to glow, sending volts of electric impulses up his arm and down his spine. "Venhedis that hurt! Must you?!" Milo shook his head slightly, trying to ignore the pain running all over his body. He stared at the cursed hand - registering its properties. "I...I couldn't possibly know - but I assure you, it was not I that put it there. . . whatever it is -"  
  
"You're lying!" 

"WE NEED HIM CASSANDRA!" The other woman, previously just observing stepped in when the dark haired woman drew closer.   
  
"Need me for what? Tell me what happened!"   
  
"I did!" the dark haired woman, Cassandra, retorted. "The Conclave has fallen! You are all we have!" she turns from him with a heaving sigh. Milo paused, attempting to draw in his memories. He just, couldn't. He had nothing to go on - but - wait. . .maybe he did. It had seemed like a dream beforehand. . . what was that?   
  
"I - I remember, running. I had thought of it a dream, but the more I think the clearer it gets. There was. . .a. . woman? She saved me. . . It feels so real. . . "  
  
The two women seemed taken aback. Moving from Milo they addressed each other before Milo was lifted to his feet.   
  
"Come - I will show you the rift."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again! Kudos & Crits appreciated - and as usual - if you are so inclinded, find me on tumblr <3 http://peachiesncreame.tumblr.com/


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